


Being Picked Up

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Swearing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter Parker can handle Flash's bullying, he really can. The problem is, Tony's having a hard time believing it.
Kudos: 37





	Being Picked Up

“You’re getting better at concealer, y’know.” Tony threw the line at Peter as if it was nothing. Peter’s breath hitched, and his hands were immediately rendered motionless, still in the process of rewiring his web shooters. Tony knew, of course. Tony Stark knew about everything, and it was stupid of Peter to think he could hide anything from him. The bruise Flash had given him wasn’t obvious, not anymore—he had gone to great lengths to hide it, spending 20 minutes in the morning scrolling through (mostly very unhelpful) makeup tutorials and spending his savings for the past few months on concealer.  
They had spent the last hour in the lab in comfortable silence, each caught up in a work-induced trance sometimes punctuated with a request for tools or a question, and Tony had been keeping this hand grenade the whole time, preparing to shatter Peter’s morale in a sentence.  
It was silent for another moment, Peter not knowing what to say.  
“You do know what I’m getting at, don’t you, kid?” Peter nodded slowly. He felt like throwing up. He knew Tony suspected there was a bully, but now there was concrete evidence. It made Peter sick, especially after hearing Tony’s cold, veiled anger.  
“I’m handling it.” He dismissed it quietly, his hands shaking violently as he tried in vain to continue on his work. Tony moved closer, abandoning his project on the adjacent table.  
“Kid, I could always help you—”  
“No,” Peter stated firmly. Flash was a bully, if he had a reason to stop bullying Peter, he’d find someone else. It was better if it was Peter, he could take it. He started formulating an argument in his head. Flash was just a kid, he didn’t do all that much, the bruise was a fluke—  
“Okay, if you’ve got it.” Peter was caught completely off guard. Tony actually believed him. He looked up from his web shooters and flashed his mentor a million-watt smile. Maybe he wasn’t the stupid kid to him after all.  
“Hey, what have you got last period tomorrow?” Tony changed the subject abruptly. Peter was confused but answered immediately, still riding on the high of Tony’s trust.  
“Study time. We have it at least one session a day this week, ‘cuz of exams. It’s really silly, actually. Most people don’t even study. Why?”  
“No reason, just curious.”  
~*~  
“The fluid takes roughly two hours to dissolve,” Peter muttered to his friend Ned in the corner of the study hall, both parties having given up on studying roughly half an hour ago, only forcing themselves to study in the first fifteen minutes, “But I’m hoping to lengthen that time and add a setting to the suit that can dissolve the fluid so I don’t have to wait or—” He was cut off by a crumpled ball of half-assed equations, probably mostly wrong, thrown his way. He sighed.  
“He’s getting better at origami; I think this is the best one yet!” Peter quipped quietly to Ned. Ned opened his mouth to speak, but a voice on the loudspeaker cut him off.  
“Uh, Peter Parker, you’re, uh, being picked up.” The principal’s voice came choppily over the loudspeakers. He had decided that this common occurrence warranted his attention, and he seemed a little shaken.  
Peter felt anxiety bubbling up in his chest: his aunt was at work, there was no way she was picking him up. But what if she was? Did something happen? Was she okay?  
Peter’s anxiety turned a sharp 180° when he set eyes on the figure leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, kiddo, came to save you from pretending to study!” Tony Stark announced, not just to Peter, but to the whole study hall. Tony had obviously been planning this: usually the student being signed out was called to the office.  
Rage stole Peter’s voice away, coaxing his blood to his face and turning it red. He saw Flash lose all of his colour, which would usually be funny, but Peter couldn’t find it in him to laugh. All he could do was watch from afar as his legs carried him over to Tony Stark, and right past him, grabbing his wrist to tug him along.  
“Did you see their faces? You weren’t kidding when you said they didn’t believe you!” Tony guffawed, but the smile slipped off his face when he noticed the coldness of Peter’s features.  
“What the fuck, Stark?” He forced out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Tony visibly recoiled, confusion tracing his eyes.  
“But—I thought that you’d—”  
“What? Be grateful? Grateful that you don’t think I can handle myself?! That you lied to me?! That you don’t trust me?!” Peter felt tears trace down his cheeks, betraying his anger.  
“I was just—” Tony started, pain delicately mingling with confusion as he tried to comprehend Peter’s anger. He was hurt. Good.  
“Save it! I don’t need this! Even if Flash stops bullying me, he won’t stop bullying! Let’s play a game! Who do you think he’s going to pick on next?! Maybe some freshman who just wants to survive high school! Maybe some kid who’s this close to killing themselves! Maybe he’ll make them hate everything about themselves! Maybe they’ll—Maybe—” Peter’s voice break. He was pathetic. He felt his legs wobble beneath him, the force of his emotion threatening to bring him to his knees. He choked out a sob.  
Tony took a step forward, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He smacked it away with much more force than necessary. “Just—just get out of my school, okay?” His voice quivered. Tony nodded, looking like he just dropped his garlic bread on the ground.  
The telltale sound of an engine in the background informed Peter of Tony’s departure. The tears had dried up, leaving him void of feeling. He didn’t go to the lab that day.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“I just—I don’t understand him! Why wouldn’t he want—it just seemed like—I thought—” Tony ranted to his AI, reading the same line of equations for the fifth time.  
“You thought you knew what was best for him?” FRIDAY inputted, sarcastic despite her lack of tone. Tony nodded in a motion more similar to hanging his head in defeat.  
“I just—I thought I knew how he worked. I thought he just said those things to be nice, and—I don’t know, I just sort of never considered that he just is genuinely nice. Everybody is always so evil and selfish and it just—that’s my default setting, assuming that. And then he comes along, and I can’t just switch that off. I can’t predict him, I thought—but then—”  
“Tony,” A voice came from the entrance to his lab. The door had been opened, revealing Clint Barton. Tony jumped. He had been apprehensive around most of Steve’s team since the Civil War.  
“How long have you been standing there?”  
“Long enough.” Tony rolled his eyes, preparing a sarcastic comment from his near infinite arsenal.  
“Peter’s not one of your machines, Tony.”  
The joke died on his lips. “I know.” Defensiveness creeped into his tone.  
“Do you?” Tony’s head finally snapped up from his work.  
“Obviously! I—he’s a kid, I know he’s a kid, I—”  
“Then you should be treating him like a kid. Take it from me, I have three. Maybe not as old as yours, but still.” Clint moved closer, sitting next to Tony, still an uninvited guest in him lab.  
“Peter’s not my—y’know what, whatever, what should I do?”  
“Talk to him. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, and you didn’t respect his wishes. You need to apologize. He’s probably more upset that you don’t trust him to handle himself rather than what you actually did.”  
“What if he hates me?” Tony looked up to meet Clint’s eyes from his workshop table and equation sheet.  
“Look, I haven’t even met Peter and I know he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate the kid who’s called him names throughout high school, there’s something else going on. Okay?” Tony nodded. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up into a soft smile.  
“Thanks.” Clint gave a two-fingered salute, leaving the lab with a wide grin.  
“FRIDAY, call Happy.”  
~*~  
Happy Hogan had a special ringtone for his boss. Nothing special, no jokes, just a different one of the default ringtones. Tony knew that, so he wasn’t surprised when Happy picked up in the middle of the first ring.  
“Hello?” Happy asked, ready for whatever Tony was about to ask him.  
“Are you doing anything?”  
“Well, I’m—”  
“Actually, never mind! Could you pick up Peter from school?” Happy had to refrain from sighing.  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.”  
“Perfect, thanks!” Tony hung up before either of them could say another word, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Peter to show up or just blow him off. Not that the kid could possibly be rude enough to.  
The next hour or so Tony spent pacing around his lab, preparing and scrapping speeches through the static of his anxiety, checking the time at least five times every minute.  
“Boss, Happy has entered the premises.” Tony jumped at the sudden noise, his heart racing in his chest. He took a second, trying to look busy, rifling papers across his tables. A ‘ding’ resounded through the room. The elevator was here.  
“I brought the suit, if you want it back, and I was going to call and then I thought you might not want me to call and maybe you didn’t even want to talk to me and—” Peter was talking a mile a minute before the elevator doors were even fully open, not letting Tony get in a word edgewise.  
“I—wait, kid—what?” Peter stopped; eyes wide.  
“I thought you wouldn’t want me to call.”  
“No, no, you brought the suit? I’m not taking the suit from you because I fucked up, kid, I’m not that petty.”  
“I—you fucked up? I was the one who yelled at you! I—I was way out of line, I shouldn’t have—you were just helping—I should’ve thanked you, probably, and—”  
“Whoa, hey, no. There’s no way anyone would’ve expected you to thank me for what I did. You said you had it, and I felt the need to intervene anyway. I didn’t listen to you, and that was horrible of me. I do not need or want a thank you, but I am kinda hoping you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”  
Peter gave out a breathy laugh. “Of course, I forgive you. I was apologizing.”  
“For no reason, I might add.” Tony smiled.

“Coming back to the lab, then?”  
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I read a lot of fics where Peter says he doesn't want Tony to intervene, and Tony does anyway, and he's just fine with it?? I had a take, and I had to share it. This, although written on a computer, was posted on mobile, so the formatting is probably weird. This is my first fic, and I'm always battling writer's block, so some of it comes out a little forced as I tried to get through certain parts. Also, I still cant figure out if Clint has two or three kids, so I took a shot in the dark, correct me if I'm wrong.


End file.
